The intense part is over; it's time to wind down and relax, and Remus loves it as much as the play itself. Especially now that he's been invited to actively help – and it's been a few times since Regulus first allowed him to, but it doesn't get any less exciting with time.
Regulus has pulled Sirius down from a standing position supported by a length of rope attached to a ring in the ceiling (and yes, the Blacks have a whole room dedicated to this kind of activity. Remus can't help but admire their commitment). They're all on the floor now; Remus sitting cross-legged, Sirius leaning his full body weight on him, Regulus kneeling behind him and untying the knots slowly.
It's fascinating, Remus thinks, how the tying up can take an hour or longer to prepare, depending on what they are in the mood for – but the untying process only lasts minutes. It's as much of art as when the knots come to life. Regulus isn't in a hurry, almost as if he wants to prolong this moment. Maybe he does, Remus would definitely understand that. Sirius is a dream like this.
Regulus unties the knots holding Sirius' arms in reverse prayer behind his back, and Sirius whimpers against Remus' chest as his stiff limbs are being moved.
'Shh, it's good,' Regulus murmurs, and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. 'You're good.'
His voice always gets low in moments like this, something that Remus has never heard in different circumstances. It makes him think that this tone is something meant for Sirius alone, and he is giddy with the knowledge that he's the first person besides his best friend to hear Regulus speak like this.
Remus begins to move his palms in circles over Sirius' shoulders to help him relax the sore muscles. Sirius is leaning heavily on his chest, forehead pressed to where Remus' shoulder and neck meet, deep breaths warm and damp on his collarbone. And Remus knows Sirius in many versions, loves them all to death, but this one – still so novel to him – might just be one of his favorites.
They'd been in this... arrangement for a while, and Remus had begun to think that he knew the Black brothers' intimate side fairly well. Then, as if to prove him different, Regulus had invited him to witness something new.
Remus had been intrigued, but he hadn't expected to walk in on Sirius tied up with a red rope twisting and crisscrossing over his pale skin in abstract knots and patterns, bending his body in a true display of art the likes of which Remus had never seen before.
And Regulus who had stood pressed to his brother's body from behind, hands steady on Sirius' shoulders; his chin high and defiance in his eyes. As if saying you've known nothing about us but now I'm letting you in. As if saying I trust you with my brother's pleasure but I haven't trusted you with his vulnerability, and I might just start to.
There was something brittle about the way Regulus had held himself, too. In a way, he had looked like a little boy awaiting a scolding.
As if Remus could ever think that they were anything but absolutely beautiful.
At first, he was only allowed to watch. That alone was the most transcendental experience in Remus' life – seeing Regulus turn Sirius into a work of the most intimate art; the ever restless, ever anxious to move Sirius allowing his brother to immobilize him, to render him defenseless; stripped of all his layers, until the very core of him was laid out to see. Trusting Regulus to take his vulnerability and handle it with care. The display of mutual trust between the brothers, the intimacy of these moments when only the two of them existed, was more intense than any sex Remus had had with them.
It felt like a holy ritual – the way Sirius would go under, not in a sexual way that he often used to, but in a more fundamental sense. The way Regulus' pupils would dilate, how his face would flush and his breath pick up despite the lack of physical effort. How, later, he'd worship the body being freed, leaving butterfly touches of his lips on his brother's skin adorned with rope marks.
How they'd hold each other after. Remus had a feeling they were reliving something, hurting and healing all over again in this soft safe space of each other's arms. What that something was, he could only guess.
He had tried not to interrupt them, at first. Already it had felt like peeking at something that wasn't his to see. But then, one time, a praise had slipped past his lips at the way Regulus had effortlessly tied up a particularly intricate knot. Regulus had whipped his head around to look at him, and Remus had fully expected that he had crossed the line, that it had been the last time he'd ever be invited to watch.
But instead of anger, Regulus' face had displayed a hopeful, child-like craving for approval. A pure hunger to be acknowledged; to have his most intimate self admired by someone external, someone who wasn't a part of him as Sirius was.
Remus has not stopped praising both of them during the process since that day.
This time, too, is no exception.
'Beautiful,' he murmurs, his eyes finding Regulus over Sirius' shoulder. It feels like he's said it a million times already, but he'll never get tired of praising these two beautiful creatures.
Regulus isn't nearly as overwhelmed by this play as Sirius is – he can't be, not with Sirius in a headspace that leaves him utterly dependent on his brother – but, still, his eyes are slightly wide and his gestures softer than ever.
'Beautiful, Padfoot, gorgeous.' Remus repeats, his gaze holding Regulus'. 'You've outdone yourself, Reg.'
Regulus doesn't answer, but his eyes sparkle, a small smile playing on his lips.
Remus' heart flutters at that. To distract himself from the unexpected sensation, he focuses his senses on Sirius.
He's putty in Remus' arms – completely boneless, and it's easy to imagine that the ropes are the only thing keeping him together; that he will dissolve in a puddle once they're gone. He's so warm and so soft, so trusting, it makes something squeeze painfully in Remus' throat. He'd been happy to just watch the brothers like this from the sidelines, then to help from a distance – whenever Regulus would ask him to retrieve a jar of salve or bring him a wet towel, and already that had felt like a privilege – but actually getting to be a part of this is simply exquisite. It's more than Remus would've ever dared to dream of.
Sirius mumbles something undistinguishable against his chest. Remus tucks a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear, letting his palm linger on his flushed cheek. 'What was that, Pads?'
Gently he lifts Sirius' head and props his chin on his own shoulder so he can hear clearly. Even with Remus' werewolf senses it's tricky to understand Sirius when he gets in his headspace. His voice will gradually get clearer as he comes back to himself – Remus has witnessed it enough times to know, and the thought of this having become a habit has him feeling all warm.
Sirius nuzzles his cheek on the side of his neck and Remus tries not to be affected by how lovely it feels.
'Mmm, wanna bite your ear,' Sirius mumbles again.
Surprised by the request, Remus looks up to Regulus for help. Regulus returns his gaze, smiling warmly – and this is new too. A while ago Remus would've not expected Regulus Black to be capable of such an expression. Not long ago Regulus would've kept his face straight.
'Well?' Regulus speaks quietly, lifting an eyebrow at Remus. He's not looking at the knots but his hands keep moving, untying the ropes running down Sirius' arms. He could do this with his eyes closed.
'Oh. Of course,' Remus answers, suddenly flustered. Regulus looks at him with a small smile, half-amused, but Remus has no doubts he'd threaten him with a curse if he tried to refuse (not that he ever would). Regulus is always indulgent when it comes to Sirius, but in moments like this, he gets extremely aggressive in his pursuit to grant his brother's every wish.
Feeling a bit itchy with Regulus' inquiring eyes on him, Remus cradles Sirius' heavy head in his palms and helps him turn it at the right angle, tilting his own so that Sirius can reach his ear.
'There you go, baby,' he says, slightly breathless.
Warm exhale tickles his ear, then there's a brush of soft lips, and Sirius' teeth gently nip at the shell of his ear. The touch is barely there, hardly a bite – it's sweet and absurd – but at this very moment, it feels like the most reasonable thing to do in the world.
Remus holds his breath, his hands unmoving at the back of Sirius' head. He has no clue why Sirius wanted to do this but it feels very important to do everything in his power to help him enjoy the experience. It's hard not to squirm, what with Sirius' mouth on his sensitive skin and the overwhelming rush of affection that floods him.
'There you go,' Remus repeats. He tangles his fingers in Sirius' hair and begins to massage the back of his head in small circles. Sirius shudders in his arms with a soft sigh. He lets go of Remus' ear, and Remus gently guides his head back on his shoulder.
He looks up, feeling like he's waking up from a deep sleep, and sees Regulus staring at them intensively. His hands, too, have stopped.
Their eyes meet, and Remus could almost swear this time it's Regulus who's blushing. He ducks his head down to work out the last knots, but Remus catches something that looks a lot like approval on his face. Remus thinks he has passed some kind of an unspoken test.
It doesn't take much longer – Regulus unties Sirius' wrists, and from then it's quick work to remove the ropes criss-crossing over his torso and back. Remus almost feels sorry, for the sight of Sirius all pretty and tied up is the closest thing to heaven he's ever seen. But then he remembers that he'll get to see it again, and his breath catches in his throat a little.
He's a part of this now.
Through it all Regulus keeps murmuring gently in Sirius' ear, sweet nothings about how much he loves him, how well he's done, how proud Regulus is of him. Kissing his nape, his head, his fingers, and wrists before gently lowering his arms to a natural position by Sirius' sides. Regulus kisses his shoulder, too, and his lips brush Remus' fingers, the slightest hint of a touch. Remus feels his heart stutter.
'Okay,' Regulus says quietly after a few warm, silent moments of massaging life back in his brother's stiff arms and shoulders. 'Let's get you to bed, Siri.' He looks up, and he seems slightly dazed himself. 'Remus, could you?...'
Remus doesn't jump to his feet eagerly only because Sirius is still leaning heavily in his arms. But his throat goes dry, and his heart picks up its pace in anticipation. It's his time, it's his turn to give.
'Right,' he clears his throat. 'Padfoot, baby, hold on for a second.'
Sirius hums a small affirmation but doesn't budge a muscle. Huffing out a soft laugh, Regulus wraps his arms around his torso from behind, and Remus helps maneuver Sirius so that he's leaning against his brother instead. Then Remus gets up on one knee – if his joints crack, he pays it no mind – and slips his arms under Sirius' knees and back to lift him.
Remus has many reasons to detest his lycanthropy, but this once he's thankful for the strength it grants him. Sirius isn't exactly light as a feather, especially boneless as he is in his current state, but at this time of the month, it takes almost no effort for Remus to carry him.
Carefully he gets up, mindful of Regulus scrambling to his feet as well. The red rope is left behind on the floor, just a snake's molt without the gorgeous body to wrap it around.
The bed is just a room away, with no door in between so it's easy to walk in and out with a doped-out submissive. A relic of the times that feel so ancient now, when Regulus would still have to make Sirius walk on his own because he didn't have the strength to carry him.
Remus moves slowly, his eyes glued to Sirius and his steps soft as if he's walking on eggshells. Regulus is walking beside him, one hand on Sirius' knee, but Remus barely notices him, because Sirius' head rolls back on his arm, and he blinks up slowly – and Remus has never been one for dramatic exclamations, but he's holding the world in his arms.
'Moony,' Sirius sighs, and his eyes dart around anxiously. 'Reggie?'
'Here, Siri,' Regulus squeezes his knee. Sirius notices him and smiles a small, sweet smile, his eyes closing again in blissful exhaustion.
They arrive at the bed, and Regulus hurries to pull the sheets back. Remus lowers Sirius down on the mattress, and immediately Regulus gets in as well. Before Remus can do as much as blink, the younger Black rearranges their bodies with practiced ease so that they're lying on their sides, Regulus hugging Sirius from behind with his arms wrapped around his brother's middle.
Sirius blinks owlishly and turns his head weakly, a sign that he's slowly coming down. 'Moony?'
Remus realizes that he's been staring at them, something hot and unnamed swelling in his chest. His face flushes hot. 'Yeah?' He croaks, touching his nape with a sheepish smile.
'C'me 'ere,' Sirius demands softly.
And Remus, who could never deny Sirius Black anything, sure isn't about to start now. He wants to jump right in, but something holds him back. 'Is it alright?' He asks Regulus anxiously.
Regulus looks at him for a moment with an unreadable expression and Remus holds his breath. But then Regulus averts his eyes, a hint of a timid smile on his lips.
'You're going to say no to our pet, Lupin?'
There's a tease there – Regulus has stopped calling him by his last name ages ago – and butterflies flutter wildly in Remus' stomach at the words. Our pet. The hot, swelling thing in his chest is close to bursting. He tries to ignore it as he scrambles to get in the bed and almost trips over his own feet on the way.
'Moony,' Sirius sighs happily, and Remus could cry with how right it feels to lie in bed with the two of them. They end up like mere minutes before on the floor, Regulus spooning Sirius, both brothers facing Remus. If he lifted his head, he could catch Regulus' eyes over Sirius' shoulder, but he's not quite ready for that.
He drapes his arm over Sirius' waist and his stupid gangly spider limb ends up encompassing Regulus as well. He takes in a sharp intake of air but forces himself to stay still, barely breathing, eyes focusing on Sirius' blissed-out face. The eyes he knows so well stare back at him with endless trust, and Remus feels himself relax muscle by muscle.
Sirius dozes off quickly, and Remus almost does too, listening to their shared breaths and Regulus' soft words whispered in his brother's hair. But he knows Regulus won't sleep, not when Sirius is like this, so Remus won't sleep either.
If someone had told him before that he'd find himself in a situation like this, he'd compliment their wild imagination. And yet, here he is – not only able to witness Regulus and Sirius being their most vulnerable selves with each other, but now he gets to participate, too. It makes him feel like he belongs. It makes him want to believe that he does.
He can't tear his eyes away from Sirius' long lashes, the pretty mole on his cheekbone. The feeling of his best friend's heartbeat reverberating through his own chest grounds him and gives him enough courage to speak up.
'Thanks,' he whispers, afraid to disturb Sirius' rest.
Regulus stirs behind Sirius. 'What?'
'For... letting me be a part of this,' Remus finishes eloquently. He doesn't know why he's saying this. He probably shouldn't. Trust him to make things unnecessarily awkward.
But instead of getting snarky like Remus half expects him to do, Regulus lets out a long exhale as if he's working himself up to something. Then, slowly, he unwraps his arm from around Sirius' middle and extends it to reach Remus' waist as well. Lightly, like he's ready to yank it back.
The hot, swelling thing in Remus' chest bursts and fills him with calm.
He might just start believing that he belongs.